


Logic Is Overrated

by Llaeyro



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age 16 and 17, Albus being a bit of a wanker, Awkward Scorpius, Confident James, Frottage, Getting Together, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-06 05:04:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10326188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llaeyro/pseuds/Llaeyro
Summary: Scorpius didn’t want to go to the leavers’ party, but he ended upveryglad he did.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [capitu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/capitu/gifts).



> A late entry to Anywhere but the Bed 2017 for the prompt ‘In the black lake shore’ by Capi, as I started but couldn’t finish it in time because it got a bit… long for a comment fest :P
> 
>  
> 
> [Read on LJ](http://llaeyro.livejournal.com/67676.html)

Albus bloody Potter is a selfish arsehole.

I didn't even want to come to this ridiculous party, if you can even call it that. The seventh years do it at the end of every year, it's somewhat of a tradition, and every year I don't see the point. They all congregate in the open, by the lake, in view of the castle and any passing professors. Some professors even _attend_ , so there's no alcohol and limited opportunity to have anything resembling fun. Well, for someone like me, anyway. No one here is likely to take me up on an offer of Gobstones or chess. My idea of fun only comes close to aligning with the rest of my peers when I'm pissed, apparently.

Albus made me come, which, admittedly, only makes him a bit of a dick. He knows I hate crowds, and socialising with people I don't know, and generally feeling like an out of place dork but he dragged me along anyway. Then, he snuck off with Jeannie Robards—which I'm sure is the real reason he wanted to come to this stupid thing in the first place—and left me standing awkwardly by a tree, trying to calculate an appropriate time to sneak off unnoticed. And _that_ 's what makes him an arsehole.

I know a few people. Well, sort of. I recognise some of the seventh years from the Quidditch teams, I could even name most of them but I don't know them to talk to. There's a few people I know from class, but they're too busy trying to impress the leavers to be seen talking to someone like me. And that just leaves James.

And obviously I can't talk to _him_.

Dumbledore's beard, there he is. Bloody _topless_. As if being around him isn't distracting enough already. He doesn't even look bothered in the slightest. I mean, it's warm enough while the sun's still up, but to have everyone staring like that, finding excuses to get close and _touch_... Just the thought of being in that situation makes my chest tighten and my stomach churn. I hate that he's just so damn comfortable.

I wish I could be.

Shit, he's coming this way. He's seen me. I'm looking around for a distraction, an excuse... I've got nothing. Shit. He's broken away from the crowd now and I'm struggling to keep my eyes from following his dark treasure trail south. A grin creeps onto his face as he approaches and I'm looking around for spectators, wondering if this is some kind of set-up. Not that James is known for that sort of thing, I mean, he seems like a nice enough guy. But why would the Gryffindor Quidditch captain want to talk to me? I mean, he’ll hang out with us a bit when Al invites me round their house, but I hardly see him at school

"Hey," he says with a grin, reaching up and casually tugging out his hairband. He gives his head a shake, runs his hand through it, teasing out the soft wave at the bottom of his dark hair. The back is nearly past his shoulders now and Merlin, I want to touch it. 

"Hey," I reply, somewhat belatedly, but he's still smiling at me.

"I want to talk to you."

"Okay."

"In private?"

"Uh... Okay?"

He takes me by the elbow, spinning me around and steering me behind the large tree on the bank of the lake. The earth has been worn away, exposing the tree's roots. James backs me into the hollow between two large roots, the ground is sandy and damp beneath our feet. It feels quite private, even though I can still hear the chatter of the party.

“So, how are you enjoying the party?”

“It’s… not really my sort of thing,” I answer honestly and he laughs.

“Figured as much. You look about as comfortable as our dads do around each other.”

I give a weak smile. I’m too distracted by my racing mind, trying to analyse exactly what is going on here. He shifts his weight to the other leg, scratches his left eyebrow, flicks his hair out of his face and my ridiculous brain is searching frantically for the hidden meaning.

“Are you having fun?” It seems like the right sort of thing to ask and I need to distract myself. “It’s your send off, after all.”

James shrugs, rubbing one hand across the back of his neck. “Posers and fair-weather friends, mostly. I know who I want to make sure I stay in touch with after school, so now I’m just making sure those people know who they are.” He takes a step forward and he’s looking at me pointedly.

“Me?” I blurt out incredulously and I can almost convince myself he’s blushing slightly.

“You,” he smiles. “I think you like me, right?”

“Yes. Well, I mean, I don’t really know you that well. Not really.”

“But you like what you do know,” he says as he moves forward again. I take half a step back and find myself against the trunk of the tree. “And you like the way I look.”

It’s not a question and I can’t stop my eyes from roving over his tanned, toned chest and stomach. My throat feels dry so I just give a small nod. He’s so close that we’re almost touching now. His hand comes up to cup my cheek and I’m breathing so loudly, surely someone will hear it and rush over.

“Well, I love the way _you_ look. And I’d love to get to know you better.” His hand is warm against my face. I don’t know where to look, he’s so close, his brown eyes too intense. I inhale sharply as his other hand settles against my ribs.

He leans in, and I know what’s coming, and I still hate that this is so easy for him. I hate that he only has to want and he gets but I can’t deny that I want to let him take. I’ve watched, and I’ve wanted and I’ve never thought I would even come close and now he closes the gap and his mouth is against mine. He gently closes against my bottom lip and I part them slightly, not really knowing what I’m doing and not wanting to screw this up.

But apparently I did, because he moves back a little. Before I can think, I’m reaching out, grabbing his shoulder, his waist, and pulling him forward again. I’ve been given an opportunity I never thought I would have, I can’t just let it go, I have to try. And if I make a total tit of myself, he’s leaving in a few weeks and I never have to see him again. Albus can just come to the manor. We crash together sloppily and almost painfully, teeth and lips and tongues. James isn’t soft and hesitant anymore, he’s grabbing and groping and pulling and it’s exquisite, it’s too much, it’s not enough.

Both of his hands find my backside. His hands pull and his hips push and he _grinds_ and I gasp away from the kiss.

"Dumbledore's pants, Potter, half the school's _right there_!"

"It's only a fifth of the school, max, and so what?" His lips find my neck and I take a deep breath to try and keep a hold of the thread.

"So we can’t do anything worthy of the restricted section.”

“Says who?” I can hear the mischievous grin in his voice. “Don’t you want to?” Squeeze, grind, breathe…

He looks up at me, a little short of breath himself, hair messier than usual if that’s even possible. I see my chance and I can’t resist. My fingers thread through his hair. It’s so soft. My nails catch a little against his scalp and I’m about to apologise when he lets out a soft but distinctly positive sigh. I tentatively tighten my fingers around a few strands and he makes another noise, more of a gasp but almost a moan. I can’t help the smirk that creeps onto my face. He kisses me again; less frantic, more controlled but just as filthy and wanting.

“Shouldn’t you be getting back?” I ask, “It is your leavers' party.” My fingers subconsciously tighten in his hair and on his shoulder, not wanting to let go in spite of my words.

“I’d rather be here.” There’s a ridiculous, fluttery feeling in my chest and I lean in to hide my goofy grin under the pretense of kissing James’s neck. He makes that little groaning noise again.

“What if we get caught? Someone might come looking for you.”

“Then we’d better give them something worth looking at, and be quick about it.”

“What?” I draw back with surprise. His hands are already rucking up my robes and my brain can’t work fast enough but I don’t know if I’m ready for this. I mean, I’ve messed around enough to know that I’m most definitely into boys but it’s never been like this. It’s never been this needy and a little frantic and so damn public. It’s never even been skin-on-skin and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say. What can I possibly say?

“Hey,” James says softly, both hands coming up to my face, “Too fast?” I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. “Sorry, you’re just so bloody gorgeous, I got carried away. Do you want to go back to the party?”

I don’t need to overthink that one. I immediately shake my head and I feel James’s answering grin to my toes.

“What do you want?” he whispers, and I can feel his breath ghosting against my lips. I know what I want—at least I think I do—but putting it into words is another matter entirely. Suddenly, I’m yanked forward and spun and I’m not sure what’s happening until I fall awkwardly against James, pressing him into the tree. “Now you can show me,” he says, arms encircling me. I shift my feet, regaining my balance but staying pressed to James. I realise that what I want is right here. I have James’s permission, I just need to take… 

I kiss him, partly because it’s familiar now and easy, but mostly just because I want to. He kisses back, but his hands stay clasped behind my back. My hands slowly drop down from his shoulders, over the firm muscles in his arms and find their way to his hips. I give my own a slow roll, pressing our clothed cocks together. He moans and I gasp and do it again. One hand moves slightly, but then he’s clasping them tight again and it just won’t do. I knock his arm, tug at it, until he lets me move it to my bum. After a moment, he moves the other down too, and then there’s a squeeze and I give a soft moan of encouragement.

Well, it was supposed to be. It didn’t come out the way I imagined it would. It was more of a squeak, and James gives a little huff of amusement but he doesn’t stop kissing me, and touching me, and pressing back when I grind my hips against him again. It feels so good, his cock. Part of me wants to see it, to touch it but the louder part knows that bad things happen when I don’t listen to logic. Logic says always tackle one thing at a time. I can only hope this isn’t the only chance I’ll get.

He’s thrusting back against me in earnest now, panting into my neck between kisses, muttering ‘fuck’ and ‘yes’ and ‘harder’ and ‘please’ and I can feel myself starting to unravel. The wind rustles the leaves of the tree above us, the water laps at the shore, the sun beats down, the students chatter away as the party goes on and I come in my pants, held up by James bloody Potter. He’s still moving against me and it’s almost too much, then he stills, his back arches, his fingers tense and flex and he silently throws his head back. I watch him, astonished that I did that to one of the most sought after guys in the school. That he wanted me, a guy two years below him. Well, school years; there’s actually only thirteen months between us. Although either way, I’m still stuck here for another two years. While he’s out there in the world, meeting people… How did I think this would be a good idea? How could I not see this was going to end terribly for me?

“Come visit me in the summer?” James asks. He sounds a little nervous.

“I’ve already invited him, actually.”

We both jump, looking up to the top of the bank and there’s Albus, leaning casually against the tree, looking down at us as if he’s been there a while.

James rolls his eyes, but there’s a long-suffering smile on his lips. “Do you mind? You’re sort of intruding on a private moment here.”

“Oh yes, I can see that. Very private, in the middle of the school grounds, with my best friend pinning my half-naked brother to a tree.”

Albus is so ridiculous, I can’t help but laugh. They both look at me as if I’ve gone mad. “Albus, do us a favour.” He looks at me expectantly. “Fuck off.” James chokes out a surprised laugh, he knows I don’t usually say that sort of thing. I try to ignore the blush creeping up.

“Well, it’s great you’ve finally found some balls, Scorp, but I expect James will be wanting them back while you’re here and he’s off in the big wide world.” I see the familiar smirk and I know there’s no real malice there. It’s just how Albus is, he can’t resist an opportunity to wind people up.

“Don’t be a wanker, Al,” James sighs, “Go on, piss off.” With a shrug, Albus slinks away and James casts a quick cleaning charm on us both. The party seems a little quieter now, the sun a little lower, the water a little higher. We’ll have to go in, soon.

“I’d like to take you out,” James says, straightening out his robes and tying back his hair. “In the holidays. On a date.”

Heart says yes, logic says ‘ _but wait_!’ “But in September I’ll be back here. For two years…”

“Yeah, well we can worry about that when it happens.” He’s kissing me again, and I think logic can shut the hell up. “One thing at a time, let’s just see what happens.” He slips his hand in mine, linking our fingers, and walks me back to the dungeons without even a glance at the party dying down behind us. 

In my bed, behind the curtains, I think about what happened today and I’m sure the summer holidays won’t come nearly fast enough. I should be worried about September, and the two years after, but being worried can wait.

Because I’ve got a date with James bloody Potter.

_Fin_


End file.
